Clockwork Heart (30 page)

“I—” she closed her mouth. What was she doing, arguing when he was trying to do something nice? Lady, if anything, she should be encouraging him. “Thank you, Cris. I appreciate it.”

He knelt on the floor and began packing his toolkit.

“I expect to be up to ‘rarely' in no time.”

“Huh? Oh, you have a hidden agenda, do you?” She laughed. His straight-faced humor always surprised her. “You promised me you didn't.”

“There's nothing hidden about it,” he replied. “My objective is obvious. I've decided that I'd rather have you describe me as ‘sweet' than a ‘slagging pain in the tailset.'”

“Really?”

“Well…” he looked up from the bag. “Maybe not in public.”

“I might be able to confine myself to saying it in private, if you gave me a reason.” Taya met his eyes, and he blushed. He averted his gaze and grabbed a handful of greasy rags, stuffing them into his bag.

Taya stood, grabbed one of the crutches, and limped over to him. She braced a hand on his shoulder and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. “I'm sorry,” she said, unrepentantly. “I shouldn't tease you.”

He glanced up at her, his expression serious.

“No, you shouldn't. I don't have much experience with teasing. I could end up taking you seriously.”

Taya felt a jolt as he met and held her gaze. Her fingers curled on his shoulder. She leaned over, braced against him again, and he slid a hand up over her cheek.

They gazed at each other, the promise of another kiss trembling between them.

Then, behind them, Gwen cleared her throat.

Taya jumped, nearly stumbling. Cristof grabbed her arms to steady her. They both looked over their shoulders, giving the landlady guilty looks.

She eyed them, her beefy arms folded firmly over her chest.

“If you're finished here, Master Clockwright, I'll go get my pocketbook,” she said, unmistakably satisfied with herself. “And I'll expect a receipt.”

“I really
ought
to charge you, now,” Cristof muttered, making sure Taya was stable before he stood and brushed at the dust on his trousers. He raised his voice, sounding annoyed. “I thought you were going to leave us alone if I repaired your clock for free.”

Taya clapped a hand over her mouth, not sure whether to be embarrassed or amused. Amusement won out, and she had to struggle not to laugh as the thick-waisted landlady and skinny exalted glared daggers at each other.

“You said ‘for a while,'” Gwen snapped. “I did leave you alone for a while. But if you think I'm going to let you ravish one of my little girls—”

“Ravish!” His eyes widened with disbelief.

Gwen snorted, irreverently snapping her fingers at him. “The bill?”

Cristof ground his teeth. “I, at least, will keep my end of the bargain. I'm not charging you for this repair.”

“Then if you don't have any more business here—”

“He's going to take me to lunch,” Taya said, hastily. Then she gave Cristof an uncertain look. Would he mind? Did he have more important things to do? “Weren't you? Or are you busy?”

“Of course we're going to lunch,” he said, still glowering.

“Good.” She smiled. “Just give me a minute to get my cloak.”

“Wait— you can't walk down Cliff Road on crutches.”

Gwen snorted. “Send one of the neighborhood boys to hire a hack, you maskless ninny. They'll run messages for a penny or two.”

Cristof scowled, then turned and headed outside.

“Have him ask for Gregor and Bolt!” Taya shouted. Cristof nodded, shoving through the door.

As soon it shut behind him, Taya turned on Gwen.

“You enjoyed that,” she said, accusingly. Gwen gave her an innocent look, then burst into raucous laughter.

“Oh, I did. You both looked so disappointed! If only you could have seen yourselves! Absolutely priceless!”

Taya tried to resist, but then she began giggling, too, until both of them were reduced to helpless laughter and snorts, glancing at the door to make sure Cristof wasn't going to come back in and find them like that.

“That's not fair,” Taya said at last, wiping her eyes. “I like him.”

“Clear proof that love is blind,” Gwen retorted. “What in the world would a nice girl like you see in that squawking crow?”

“He's brave, and honest, and intelligent—”

“—bony, bad-tempered, poorly dressed, outcaste—”

“Oh, Gwen! He's not perfect, but … the perfect one turned out to be a murderer.”

“Hmph.” Her landlady sighed. “You know I'm only giving him a hard time because I can. But I worry about you, Taya. You're flying in such dangerous skies, with all these criminals and spies and bombs…”

“It's all over now.”

“Is it?” Gwen looked dubious. “And what will you do when that awful decatur is executed and your crow puts on his mask again? It would be one thing if I thought you were just having a fling, but I know you better than that. I don't want you to get your heart broken when reality catches up with you.”

“Reality.” Taya straightened her shoulders. “I can out-fly reality any day.”

“Not even the fastest icarus can do that, dear.” Gwen shook her head. “Well, enjoy yourself while you can, even if it
is
with an outcaste. And don't forget to take your pain medicine with you.”

Taya nodded, grabbing her other crutch and limping up the stairs.

Cristof's mood had improved by the time they were settled into the hack. The message boy had found Gregor, and the cheerful coachman greeted Taya with enthusiasm and Cristof with respect.

Cristof set his tool bag on the floor and stretched his legs across the narrow gap between their two facing seats.

“Where are we going?” Taya asked. “If you have work to do, I don't mind getting lunch on my own. I didn't mean to invite myself like that.”

“No? I thought we'd go to that foreign restaurant you like. The Cabisi place. I never tried it the other night.”

She smiled. “You have time?”

“My suspension is still in effect. This time they took away my lictor's papers to ensure it.”

“I'm sorry.”

“It's all right. I don't know what I'm going to do after this, anyway.” He looked out the window, then flinched and looked back. The hack was making its way down Cliff Road, revealing a sweeping vista and long drop. “I'll never be able to work as a spy again.”

“You don't sound too upset about it.”

He absently tapped his fingers on his tool bag. “I'll find something else to do.”

She hesitated, but the opening was there, and she had to take it.

“Will you start living like an exalted again?”

“No.” His answer was fast and firm. “I can't go back to a mask and robes. Could you go back to working in a factory, after living like an icarus?”

“But that's different. I'd be giving up my freedom if I did that,” she protested.

“And I'd be giving up my freedom if I covered myself. You have no idea. It's not just the public restrictions, although those are bad enough. It's all the other rules and traditions and expectations. No … the Lady made a mistake when she incarnated me as an exalted. I'm not ready for it.”

“Maybe she wanted you in the caste for a reason,” Taya suggested. “To make it more honest, or to shake up traditions, or something like that. Maybe it's your duty to live like an exalted.”

“Do you want me to go back?”

“No!” She looked at him and saw that he was serious, so she became serious, too. “But I want you to do what's right. If you have to go back to help your family, then you should.”

“My family doesn't need my help. Not the kind of help that requires me to put on a mask, anyway,” he said, forestalling her protest. “Besides, it's too early to think about returning to Primus. We don't even know what's going to happen yet.”

Taya glanced at him. It was clear what was going to happen, and they both knew it. But she didn't argue.

“All right.” She made an attempt to lighten the mood. “I was wondering what you might look like with long hair and jewels, though.”

“Ridiculous.”

“I
was
.”

“I mean, I look ridiculous.”

“Well, somebody needs to do something about your hair. You have to stop cutting it yourself. Even that little sweep girl of yours could do a better job.”

“Jessica? She'd cut off my ears.”

“She was cute. ‘Clockite.' I like that.”

“She's a pest. I can't get rid of her.” He sounded put out. “For some reason my shop fascinates children.”

“Did you show them the flying birds?”

He muttered something. She laughed.

“I don't know why you can't just be nice to them.”

“If I'm nice, they'll come around even more often than they do now, and I'd never get any work done.”

“I see. So by that logic, if I decide I don't want you hanging around—”

He gave her an alarmed look, and Taya remembered that he wasn't confident enough for that kind of teasing.

“—then I'll have to suggest something unpleasant, like taking another flight together.”

“Yes, that might scare me away.”

“Too bad. I liked flying with you.” She put on a thoughtful expression. “I liked landing with you even better.”

“I am aware that the correct response to that comment would be to swing across to sit next to you,” he said, sounding pained, “but if I tried, I'd hit my head on the ceiling, or fall on top of you, or do something equally inept that would embarrass us both.”

She laughed. “You're thinking too much again.”

“Thinking isn't a habit I'm likely to break.”

Taya shook her head, exasperated, as the hack rattled to a halt and Gregor sang out the name of the restaurant.

“Allow me.” Cristof unfolded himself first, exiting and setting his tool bag and her crutches onto the cobbles. He helped Taya slide out. The maneuver was somewhat inelegant as she tried to avoid putting too much weight on her wounded leg.

“Are you all right?” he asked, steadying her.

“Just cold.” She started to lift her hand to fasten the cloak-clasp around her neck, only to find that he wasn't letting go. “What—”

He cupped her cheek with one hand and kissed her.

Startled, Taya froze. Then she collected herself, wrapped her arms around his neck, and lifted herself up to return the kiss.

She felt him shiver as he lowered his head again, his lips soft as they brushed against hers. She closed her eyes, surprised by how content she was to be held by him as her cloak slipped off her shoulders and passers-by whistled.

When they separated a second time, Taya lifted his glasses from his face. The lenses were steamed opaque.

“That was nice,” she murmured, smiling up at him. The autumn wind stirred his hair, and he wore an expression she didn't think she'd ever seen before. She touched his lips with her free hand. “Why, Cris, you're positively handsome when you smile.”

Gregor cleared his throat from the driver's bench.

“Maybe you'd like a tour of Secundus, you two?” he asked, fighting to keep a poker face. “Take me a couple hours to make a complete circuit of the sector, most like.”

Cristof looked up, blinking as he tried to focus without his glasses.

“Um— not today.” His hands slid from Taya's waist. “Here—” He reached into his greatcoat for his pocketbook.

“Oh, you needn't worry yourself about that, Exalted.” Gregor's eyes crinkled with humor. “I weren't going to charge you anyway, not the city's heroes. You two have a nice lunch, then.” He saluted them with his coachman's whip and shook the reins.

“Thank you, Gregor!” Taya shouted, as the hack rattled away. He waved.

When she looked back, Cristof's smile had shifted back to his more familiar mocking expression.

“What?” She faced him and carefully slid his glasses back on.

“You make friends with everyone, don't you?”

“It's better than making enemies.”

He nudged the frames back down to the right angle. “Interesting concept.”

“By the way, I think you've reached ‘rarely' now.”

“What comes after that?”

“‘Sometimes.'”

“A new goal.”

The restaurant seated them by the windows. Since Cristof didn't know anything about Cabisi food, Taya suggested a few dishes, which led them into a discussion of her interest in foreign lands and the diplomatic corps exams. He listened with a grave air, asking probing questions.

They were halfway through lunch when Taya heard her name called. She twisted in her seat.

Lars stood in the restaurant doorway, looking uneasy. She gestured, and he lumbered past the other diners, shaking his shaggy hair back over his shoulders.

“Taya, I'm glad to see you. I'm looking for Kyle. You haven't seen him, have you?”

“No.” Taya set down her spoon, hearing the concern in his voice. “Why?”

“What's wrong?” Cristof asked, his face settling into its usual frown. Lars gave the exalted a startled look, noticing him for the first time, then bowed, palm against his forehead.

“Exalted, have you seen him?” the big man asked, plaintively. “He talked to the lictors yesterday about Alister and Clockwork Heart.”

Cristof shook his head. “He didn't talk to me. What happened?”

“He — the prototype—” Lars grimaced. “We've got a problem, Exalted. You're a lictor, right? Or something like that?”

Cristof looked across the table at Taya. “Maybe we should take this outside. Do you want to wait here?”

“No.” She pushed her bowl away and reached for her crutches. “Let's go.”

“I didn't want to notify the lictors, not until I was sure what happened,” Lars said nervously as they huddled close together outside the restaurant. “I tried Kyle's flat, but nobody answered, so I thought maybe he'd gone out for lunch, but—”